When the bus finally screeched to a halt, Tomás grabbed his backpack and stepped out into the dusty village street. He paused for a moment, taking in the familiar yet altered landscape. The houses stood with an air of neglect, their colors faded, and the windows like hollow eyes reflecting the struggles within.

With a determined stride, he made his way toward his home. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting elongated shadows that seemed to stretch and whisper tales of untold stories. As he reached his property, the cries of his daughter pierced the air, guiding him to the pigsty behind the house.